


Begin Again

by hudgens77



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Tattoo parlor AU, Yakuza, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 18:55:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5795971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hudgens77/pseuds/hudgens77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Asahi is a tattoo artist and Noya a drug dealer who he involuntarily falls in love with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Begin Again

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a one shot, but I hope you enjoy! These two deserve so much love.  
> Don't forget to tell me what you thought!

I knew he was different the minute I saw him, and not necessarily in a good way.

There's this stigma that pierced and/or tattooed people usually are: a) drug addicts; b) gangsters; c) hobos, or d) all of the above. And I can assure you that in all the time I had been working as a tattooer, those weren't nothing but stereotypes, although... sometimes they were right.

'Noya' never told his full name when he made appointments. I'm not even sure if that was his real name or some kind of pseudonym. He was short and smile-y; apparently friendly and innocent, but the moment he showed me his back so I could fix his tattoos I knew he was no good.

I chose not to ask. 

The first time was silent. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of the tattoo machine and the small talk here and there to make the moment less tense. Even though I love everything related with drawing and I tend to get absorbed into my world when I do it, I was never able to relax this time. Luckily, everything comes to an end and Noya was so fascinated with my work that he promised to come back.

I wasn't sure what to feel about it.

* * *

 

Surprisingly for me, he came back a few months later. He showed me a huge scar in his arm and asked me to cover it with some design. I lost my breath, but I couldn't refuse. I was awkward and I think he noticed it, because he started talking with me. He was charismatic and eloquent, which helped me relax little by little. He even managed to make me laugh a few times.

Since that time, he started coming often. Sometimes just because, some others to cover scars like the first times. His line of work was evident, yet his kind personality made me forget about it when we were together. We established some sort of strange friendship.

I once told him that I was a major in visual arts, but I hadn't found an stable job so I decided to test my luck as a tattoo artist. And even though I liked it, I couldn't deny to him that my dream still was about becoming a painter and make a living out of it.

"Are you kidding me?! You should totally try!" he'd said, causing my face to heat up. "You're insanely good at this!"

I stammered a "Thank you." We may not talk that often, but that made our time together more special and intimate. I knew I could talk to Noya about my stuff because I was sure that he wouldn't judge me and viceversa.

Noya never specified what he did for a living, and I never pressured him to do it. Maybe that was what allowed me to gain his trust because he gradually began to open up, assuming I knew what he did yet not revealing any quintessential details. He spoke of the good things: the laughter, the camaraderie. He even talked about his friends sometimes: Tobio, Ryuu, Suga... the beautiful Kiyoko —I got a little jealous when he brought her up, I won't deny it—. I usually paid attention to him; however, sometimes my mind couldn't help wondering about how he'd look if I put him against the wall, running my fingers through his stunning body and kissing each and every of his tattoos as he moaned and told me how he liked it. And then Noya would say something that made me come back to reality, managing to make me blush while I mentally reprimanded myself for my thoughts. And he would tilt his head in an irresistibly tender way that would only worsen my state as he would ask me what happened, so I'd have to pause and tell him it was nothing until I was calm while Noya burst into laughter because of my odd reaction.

There was this time he disappeared for many months. I don't know what came over me —I couldn't stop thinking about him, as if I was on some kind of spell. I looked for him everywhere, hoping to find him. I mistaked him for lookalikes. I drew him in my designs notebook in order not to forget his face.

But he came back. I was so relieved, my friends had noticed I was depressed because I was getting used to that worst-case-scenario-thought. But Noya... had changed; he was sadder. I could notice he was making an effort to look happy and chat with me, but he didn't look in the mood for it and I didn't know what to say.

It was more or less by the half of the tattoo when he let out a big breath and confessed to me that he didn't want to "be there" anymore, whatever that meant.

(Of course I knew what it meant).

I left the machine and looked him in the eye.

"Why don't you leave, then?"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Noya frowned.

"I just can't."

"It's never too late to begin again," I whispered tentatively. I was afraid of his reaction, but he didn't say a thing.

I sighed and continued working.

Even since we established this strange friendship that unfortunately bloomed into something else for me —something bittersweet, passionately painful and surely one-sided— I always asked him to take care when we said goodbye. He would nod with that big grin that gave me butterflies in my stomach and assure me he'd come back soon.

But after that day he didn't fulfill his promise.

* * *

 

And yet, I was hoping he'd come back. I wanted to believe that it would be another long period of time like the former one, but as the months went by I realized I had lost Noya forever.

That's when I hit bottom.

I tried to hide it, but my friends could notice. Yachi (my adorable assistant) asked me several times if something was wrong and whether I wanted her to cancel the dates I had for the day. She even suggested I should take some vacations. But it was no use: no matter where I went, Noya was everywhere. He was in the streets, in my sketches, inked forever in my mind...

I had to let him go.

* * *

 

I began painting again. I vented everything in my canvases; sometimes I even broke some of my brushes when I remembered how I coward I had been. I should've hug him when he was sad that time, I should've kissed him when we said goodbye. I should've taken him in my arms and push him against the wall as I had wanted to do several times; that way at least I'd have the comfort that I had tried and who knows, maybe Noya would have loved me back —physically, at least. Something was better than nothing, but I had nothing.

I made several paintings of him. He pushed me to paint again, to paint new things. New designs Yachi saw and loved, and so I eventually showed her my paintings —only the ones that weren't about Noya, because those were too personal— and she suggested I should put them in the tattoo parlor. Her enthusiasm motivated me to do it, and as years went by the parlor evolved into a gallery. I may not be a rich and famous painter, but I did earn a good amount of loyal clients and fans. Deep down, Noya never ceased being my inspiration; not even when they hired me in a University as a professor of visual arts.

* * *

Life is full of surprises, and one of mine was meeting with Noya again. It had been more than twenty years since the last time I saw him, smiling and young. One day as another term began and I was calling the role, I found a familiar name:

"Nishi _noya_  Yuu."

"Here!"

I looked up and lost my breath. How didn't I see him before? He was older than most of my other students, but it was more than than: his smile shone. His features were toughest with adulthood, but his eyes hadn't lost that mischievous sparkle I loved.

_(—Noya chuckled._

_"So, if I wanted, you could make a tattoo of my face?"_

_And I chuckled—._

_"That's so narcissistic."_

_"Narcissistic?" he frowned. "Is that a yes or a no?"_

_If he knew how many times I had drawn him in my notebook._

_"Yeah. Sure."_

_When he smiles, my heart beats faster._

_"You're the best artist, Asahi!"_

_"T-thank you."_

_And then he giggles. Doesn't he realize what he does to me?_

_"Stop being so humble. You're super talented. I always wanted to be an artist like you, but I never had the resources to."_

_I swallowed. Hard._

_Oh, Noya. If only you knew._

_If only you could realize you're already art.)_

* * *

He approached me by the end of the class.

"It's never too late to begin again, right?" he said cheerfully.

I've never felt so happy.

* * *

 

Noya had the skills and passion to triumph in art. It was a shame he started until now, but I was happy that he let his past behind him to make his dream come true. Our friendship bloomed again as if nothing had happened, and a feeling I thought buried deep inside me bubbled up from my chest.

By the end of the term, I always asked them to paint a portrait of someone important to them, someone who inspired them. I wanted to see all that admiration plastered on the canvas, the power of that love in their strokes.

Noya was the only one who didn't paint during classes. He spend the time looking at the others and, sometimes, sketching in his notebook. But he never allowed me to look at his progress and when I questioned him about why he never worked in the classroom since I had asked for that project, he told me that it was too personal for him and he didn't want anyone to see it until it was ready. I allowed him because the importance of art is to express oneself freely.

The last month passed by swiftly. The last day of classes, Noya arrived early with his canvas ready and covered with some cloth. He was sitting in a bench, fidgeting his leg impatiently as everyone else gave their work the last details.

He smiled at me when I entered the classroom and I couldn't help smiling back. I reminded everyone else it was the last day they had to finish the project. The tension was so thick you could practically smell it in the atmosphere, mixed with the scent of paint and solvents.

Noya approached me immediately and asked me to take a look at his work to give him my opinion and improve it if necessary. I nodded but became distracted in that moment with other students that asked me for help.

The class was eventually over and with that, so was the harassment of my students. I beamed apologetically at Noya as they left, but he didn't seem angry at me. He grinned from ear to ear, somewhat anxiously, and took off the cloth that was covering his canvas when I finally approached him.

I gasped.

I drew my hand to my mouth, about to cry with deep emotion. In the canvas... Noya's canvas, there was me; painted in gorgeous warm colors.

Noya smiled at me, causing my heart to go wild when he placed his hand on my shoulder.

"You said we had to paint someone who inspired us, right?"

I nodded with tears in my eyes.

It was decided. I would kiss him that day.

(After all, it's never too late to begin again).


End file.
